


Tumbling from your Eyes

by garconne



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4692917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garconne/pseuds/garconne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during the finale. At Hannibal's coastal hideaway, what did he and Will do between arriving and having wine that evening? I think we all know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tumbling from your Eyes

Will Graham unbuttoned his shirt. Standing alone in a lavish bedroom of Hannibal Lecter’s coastal retreat, he dropped his clothes on the plush bed and stepped into the shower. His mind readily went blank under the hot stream. And as the steaming water engulfed his face, two things were clear to him. First, that he was unlikely to leave this house alive. Second, that at that very moment, Hannibal was also bathing, finally free to privately cleanse himself after years of confinement.

Indeed, the old Lithuanian was still enjoying his shower when Will entered his bedroom. His own skin freshly clean and wearing only his black boxer briefs, he neatly turned down the sheets and eased onto Hannibal’s bed, face down in Hannibal’s pillow. There he lied, and after a few moments, heard the shower water shut off. Hannibal would already know he’d come.

“You should get dressed, Will. We’ll have company soon.”

Will rolled over and found Hannibal in an elegant, white bath robe, carefully tied at the waist. His clean hair was combed into place, nails newly filed. Lying vulnerable on the bed, Hannibal’s eyes drank him in as they always did. He came closer, stooping so his breath fell on Will’s neck, and slipped his hand under the pillows. He was checking for a weapon.

“I’m not trying to kill you, Hannibal,” Will said, sitting up to face him. “The Dragon will take care of that.”

Hannibal met his gaze, unwavering for what felt like a full minute before he spoke. “Tell me, Will. What is it that you’re trying to do?”

Will couldn’t fight his smirk. He knew Hannibal would make him beg again; it was so transparently predictable as to be amusing in that moment. He had no doubt Hannibal harbored the same feelings about finding him in his bed. Likewise, he had no doubt that Hannibal was already hard at the sight of him.

Will wet his lips and whispered, eyes pleading. “I meant what I said before. I need you, Hannibal.”

Hannibal loosened the cloth belt of his robe. “What else?”

Will sighed, loathing and craving him. “I regret…rejecting you.”

What followed was so swift an action, Will only had the space of a gasp to react as Hannibal’s body pinned him to the mattress. The robe shed, he was nude upon him, his pronounced arousal sending shivers up Will’s spine. It didn’t take long for Hannibal’s erection, rhythmically sliding against the slick fabric of Will’s undergarment, to coax out his own arousal as well. Foreheads pressed together, they held onto one another, leaving no lingering suspicions about the location of their hands or their true intentions.

 _This is what you’ve always wanted._ The thought danced through Will’s head, but he couldn’t be sure if it was his own or Hannibal’s. He swallowed.

When they were both urgent, Hannibal slipped the black shorts off of Will’s legs and retrieved something from the nightstand. A lubricant. Of course he was prepared. Of course. While Hannibal was briefly occupied, Will idly imagined slitting his throat with a knife he didn’t have and lightly chuckled at the absurdity of the thought. His smile gave way to a shaky gasp as Hannibal’s finger pressed into him. Will's heart fluttered. Hannibal was asking a question: _Have you done this before?_  

_Have I ever fucked a serial killer? No, can’t say I have._

Hannibal withdrew his hand after a moment and Will’s skin prickled with anticipation in the space that followed. There was no turning back. Hannibal was on him once more, breaching him again, now letting his cock replace the finger.

The answer to whether or not Will was a virgin was no, of course, and he could see in his mind the smile playing on Hannibal’s lips as he moved within him. So close to him, conjoined, he merged with him, finally, losing himself to the waves of scarlet bliss that pulsed through him with each motion of Hannibal’s hips. A bit cliché, Will acknowledged, to lose track of where his body began and ended…yet a wholly singular experience. _His_ hands were in _his_ hair, _his_ chest rising and falling, _his_  humid breath on _his_ ear,  _his_ lips on _his_ neck, _his_ hips bucking beneath _his_ fingers. No, Will Graham would not survive this. He lost himself in Hannibal Lecter and no longer tried to resist it. He was gone. He was whole.

Hannibal found just the perfect angle to send Will over the edge, so when he eased off, Will understood it was intentional—he wasn't going to let him finish so quickly. He wasn’t going to mess up the sheets. Much. Their lips finally met as Hannibal came, his breaths coming as sharp gasps through his nose. Will trembled beneath him.

 _This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but with a whimper_.

Hannibal withdrew and Will watched him through a passive haze, knowing full well what would follow. Hannibal regarded him for a moment, and may have swept his fingers through Will’s hair—Will couldn’t remember, later on, if he’d only imagined that motion—before he moved down to his waist and took him into his mouth. Will started at the warmth suddenly surrounding him, reflexively thrusting upward ever so slightly. Hannibal could finally taste him, savor him. Will whined and bucked his hips again, again, the word _exquisite_ fluttering through his mind. When he came, when Hannibal drank him in, when he was free, he couldn’t be sure which of them was more grateful.

They lied panting in the nest of cream sheets for a moment afterward. Will’s breath caught in his throat; his hands were shaking.

“Hannibal,” he breathed, staring at the ceiling, loathing and worshiping his name.

Hannibal was already looking at him. “Will.”

He turned to face him, trailing his eyes over his silver chest hair. “Thank you.”

Hannibal held his gaze for a moment. Will leaned forward and met his lips once more. Hannibal reciprocated and then spoke. 

“You should get dressed, Will.”

“We have company coming.”

Hannibal donned his robe as Will collected his underwear. As he started toward the door, Will turned back.

“Did you always know we’d end up here?” Will asked.

“Are you surprised?”

Will shook his head and started to leave again.

“What will your wife say?” Hannibal asked.

Will looked back at him. “About what?” he inquired, turning and leaving this time.

As Will walked away, he knew the smirk that he suppressed was fully alive on Hannibal's face.


End file.
